The Fateful Day (19 page)

I looked at him, alarmed. ‘But citizen – the fee. I am a humble tradesman—’

‘I will be honoured,’ he interrupted me, ‘to pay them for their services, citizen. The woman, especially. She was the one who told me to wear this.’ He fingered a silver chain around his neck, hung with phalluses and other lucky charms. ‘It has served me very well.’ He gave his timid smile.

I looked at him suspiciously. Why should he do that? He was not especially noted for his generosity – or indeed for anything at all. Alfredus Allius was not a man to stand out in a crowd, being of average height, of medium build, and of middle-age – thirty-five or forty, perhaps. His hair was mousy brown and his features, though regular, were unremarkable at best, and the dark-coloured mourning toga that he wore today did not flatter him, making him look more than usually plain. He was resolutely unexceptional in every way, but I’d never thought of him as devious. Yet this offer was far beyond the call of courtesy. What was he up to?

I shook myself. I should be thanking him, not thinking doubtful thoughts. Junio, however, was ahead of me.

‘Thank you for your generosity, citizen.’ You can see my father feels it very much.’

Alfredus made a dismissive gesture with his hand. ‘He is a client of Marcus Septimus. His Excellence would be displeased if he returned and found I had not helped. Wasn’t the dead slave a gift from his own household, after all? Unfortunate that this should happen while he isn’t here. Some sort of fatal accident, I understand.’

‘What affects my father most is that this was no accident,’ Junio said softly.

I shot a warning glance at him, but he was right, of course. There was no point in our attempting to disguise the facts. The tanner’s wife had worked out for herself that the ladder had been deliberately moved, as she would no doubt be telling everyone with pride.

Junio’s words had caused a little stir. Vesperion gasped aloud. ‘You can’t mean that your servant killed himself?’ He glanced at his own master. ‘That might make a difference to the herbs …’

I shook my head. ‘I mean that someone murdered him.’

This time even Alfredus Allius looked shocked. ‘Then I hope you find whoever is responsible,’ he said. ‘That boy would have grown up to be a valuable slave. It will cost you quite a lot to replace him even now. Which reminds me that I have another purpose here.’ He looked embarrassed and turned a little pink. ‘I have been asked to recommend a pavement-maker who could be relied upon to do a large job quickly and efficiently, and I thought of you. But there is an element of haste involved, and obviously you have recently sustained a nasty shock, so perhaps you feel that you could not undertake the task …?’

I could only boggle at him stupidly. Not because he’d thought of recommending me – such a thing is not unusual: a stranger moving into a town will often ask (or even pay) some local worthy for advice about which tradesmen to employ – it gives the man concerned a chance for patronage, and limits the chance of the newcomer paying a high price for shoddy workmanship. What had surprised me was that he’d bothered to come here himself, just as this morning’s customer had done.

Alfredus Allius was still urging me. ‘A deliberate killing is upsetting, naturally, even when it just concerns a slave, and perhaps you would prefer that I didn’t bother you with ordinary business matters at this time. Though possibly – with your financial loss – a profitable contract would be good news for you?’

I looked at Junio who had darted me a glance. Obviously his thought had been the same as mine. I just had sufficient presence of mind to exclaim, ‘So it was you who proposed me? That was very kind of you.’ I saw that the councillor was puzzled so I added, hastily, ‘This does concern the Egidius villa, I presume?’

‘B
y all the deities, citizen, are you a sorcerer?’ Alfredus Allius was so surprised he sat down on the stool, though it was far too small for him and much cruder than appropriate for a person of his rank. ‘How did you know? That is indeed the property in question.’ He shook his head. ‘Marcus always boasts of how astute you are, but how could you possibly have guessed?’

‘It is no guess,’ I told him, as Junio hastily brought other seats for us to ensure that our heads were decently below the councillor’s. ‘The new owner called here earlier today in search of me.’ I squatted on the little stool which Maximus had used, while Junio perched on a block of wood we used for cutting tiles. ‘But unfortunately I was not here when he came. There was a problem at my patron’s villa which delayed me very much.’

Something in my manner had alerted him. ‘I wish I’d sent my wise-woman to visit you before. You clearly need one of her talismans to ward off ill luck today. It was a serious problem at the villa, from the way you talk of it,’ he said.

I was having a fairly serious problem of my own right now, in fact. My balance on the stool was quite precarious and I was in danger of dropping the precious casket of dried herbs. It would have been the worst of omens to have broken it. I managed to lean over and put it down on the counter of the shop, which was available now that the central shutters had been taken down. Only then was I able to consider a response. ‘More serious than you can imagine, councillor,’ I said, shuffling myself more securely on the seat.

Alfredus Allius frowned. ‘I suppose it was a fire? Most unlucky, since Marcus is away.’

That was a sensible surmise, in fact. Buildings (and people) were destroyed by fires almost every day – as indeed this very workshop had once been. But, since we were now within earshot of the street, I hesitated for a moment before I answered him.

Alfredus was not expecting a reply. He had only paused to touch his precious amulets and before I could say anything he went on at once, ‘In fact, it’s turning out to be a very ill-starred day …’ He glanced around and seemed to check himself ‘… as you will doubtless find out for yourselves. An announcement will be made in the forum very soon – now that Gaius Publius’s will has been read out and the crowds attending the forum have dispersed. There’s been sad news from Rome.’

‘If you are referring to the Emperor, I already know,’ I said, and saw Junio share his look of startlement. ‘The commander of the garrison told me when I went to call on him – but I have not had the opportunity to tell my son as yet.’

‘Then I had better do so,’ the councillor replied. ‘But close the shutters up. Vesperion will help. We don’t want the street to hear.’

I nodded. The tanner’s wife had found a reason for hovering nearby, coming out in person with a jug to buy milk from a stout girl selling it from a wooden pail. The arrival of the magistrate had clearly been observed, and there had already been some curious glances aimed at us.

Junio fetched the slats of wood and, with the assistance of the steward, slid them into place, while I moved the box of herbs to safety once again. It plunged the little area into gloom once more though fortunately the candle had not quite gone out.

Alfredus seemed to feel the need for dignity. He rose slowly to his feet, blinking his weak eyes against the shadowy dark. ‘If the commander has already told you what has happened, citizen, I feel there is no harm in my repeating it and telling you the latest information that I have,’ he said. ‘It may affect what you decide to do – it might be wise to leave the town as soon as possible. I fear the guards may lock the gates tonight before it’s dark – there is a general feeling that there may be riots.’

‘Why, what’s happened, Excellence?’ Junio asked, squatting uncomfortably on his makeshift seat again and remembering to add the honorific title just in time.

Alfredus told the story, or rather, declaimed it as though he were a public orator, with dramatic gestures to give graphic emphasis. It was much the same account that I’d already heard, but in greater detail – including the omens which had been observed in Rome the day before the murder of the Emperor.

‘It’s said that when Pertinax (may I not disturb his memory by my words!) was sacrificing to the household gods, the fire on the Larian altar flickered out and died,’ he made a fluttering gesture to imitate the flame, ‘instead of flaring up as usual when oil was poured on it.’ He paused dramatically. ‘And the sacrifice he offered was found to have no heart! Imagine that! And as if those signs were not enough, when he turned to speak to those attending him, there were no pupils visible in his eyes at all.’

Vesperion had been listening to this account aghast – evidently it was new to him as well. He stared at his master as though he were a messenger from Dis, then spat on his finger and rubbed behind his ear, in the age-old gesture for keeping off a curse. ‘Dreadful omens! May we be preserved.’ He glanced round ner-vously, obviously expecting to be rebuked. ‘If you’ll pardon the interruption, master. I forgot myself.’

Alfredus did not reprimand the man – as Marcus would have done – for joining in the conversation of his superiors unasked. Indeed, he nodded in agreement and fingered his good-luck amulets again. ‘Vesperion is right. It’s almost as if the deities were warning Pertinax, but he did not heed the signs. Though he was thrice reminded that the auguries were bad, he insisted on doing all his usual duties for the day. With terrible results. And so we lost an admirable Emperor.’ He sighed and sat down on the stool again – this was clearly the end of the formal oratory. ‘Who knows what kind of man this Didius will be. Another Nero, or a Commodus, perhaps – though all honour be to his Imperial name, of course.’

This last remark, I realised, was not some ritual incantation to ward off bad luck – though given the councillor’s superstitious instincts it might well have been – it was to protect himself against potential mortal listening ears. Everyone had learned to do that when Commodus ruled. It used to be rumoured that there were Imperial spies in every house, and the citizen who spoke ill of the Emperor, or was even reported to have done so, was liable to suffer a very painful death, often as an after-dinner spectacle for Commodus and his current favourites, it was said, as a reminder that it could be their turn next. Under Pertinax, this constant spying had been much less prevalent, but with this newest Caesar now in power in Rome who knew if such times were likely to return?

‘Don’t worry, councillor,’ I said. ‘No one can now hear us from the street, and there are no informers here.’ I decided that candid frankness was the best approach. ‘The commander does not think that Didius will last – that he will either try to bribe his way to power, and not be able to fulfil his promises, or simply be deposed by someone else more ruthless than himself. But either way there are unsettled times ahead.’ I looked directly at the councillor. ‘For all of us, I fear. My best hope is that Marcus will come directly home and not get as far as the capital at all. Though, the gods know that there is grief enough awaiting him back here.’

‘So the fire was a substantial one?’ Alfredus Allius asked. ‘I thought with a water source nearby, it might have been contained.’ He saw me hesitate. ‘I owe you and your patron a great deal, citizen. If there’s anything that I can do, I would be honoured to assist. It happens that I know a fine property for sale not far from his town house in Corinium, if the villa is too damaged to rebuild at once.’

I looked thoughtfully at him. I was still nonplussed by Alfredus Allius. He must have some motive for coming here today with these expensive herbs and cleansing rituals for a low-value slave. I did not quite believe that it was simply generous. Perhaps it was a kind of test of loyalty – wondering where my sympathies would lie if Marcus fell from grace. Is that why he had been so frank with me, even condescending to reveal the story of the Emperor before the formal announcement had been made? Well, I was tired of dissimulation on my own account today – several times I’d given only a version of the truth. This was surely a moment for outright honesty.

‘The villa building is undamaged, councillor. The problem is with what my master kept inside.’ I gave him a full account of what I’d found (and failed to find), including what I’d learned from Tenuis, some of which Junio had not heard before.

I had almost forgotten, in my grief for Maximus, how terrible and shocking these events would sound but the reaction of my listeners soon reminded me. Even Junio, who already knew the worst of it, looked pale, and the other two stared at me with shock and incredulity. When I’d finished there was a little pause.

Vesperion was rubbing spit behind his other ear. ‘More deaths!’ he muttered in that cracked voice of his. ‘The gods are angry. Such dreadful auguries!’

The curial magistrate caressed his amulet again. ‘Vesperion’s right, again. So many killings all at once cannot be a coincidence. It must be a message from the gods. What are they trying to warn us all against?’

I shook my head. ‘I agree it’s not coincidence. But I don’t blame the gods. I suspect a human hand. In fact, begging your forgiveness, councillor, I believe that it all hinges somehow on that man to whom you recommended me as a mosaicist. How well do you know him?’

Alfredus Allius made a doubtful face. ‘Not very well at all. I’ve met him once or twice. He used to have a villa near Corinium – in fact he also has a town-house there and served for some years on the local curia. He was a distant relative of Gaius Publius – or at least of his dead wife – and it was at her funeral that I first encountered him, though he’s had some dealings with the warehouse since. But I can’t believe that he’s connected with these deaths. He’s a pleasant fellow, and extremely rich. If he wanted precious ornaments, he wouldn’t stoop to stealing, he would buy them for himself.’

‘That’s true,’ I agreed glumly. ‘But the same could be said of anyone of high degree – as I presume he is.’

‘Oh, indeed. Risen from the most successful
equites
in Britannia – and he’s even wealthier now. He’s one of the few people to really benefit from the reading of the will today. I think he knew he would be, despite the various claims. That’s partly why he’s bought the house near Glevum – there will be estates to manage – though of course he’s kept a town house in Corinium as well. Rather like Marcus Septimus, in fact.’

So the challenge to the will had been presented after all, I thought. I was about to say so, but Junio spoke first.

‘But I understood that he had come here from Londinium,’ he murmured with a frown.

‘Londinium?’ Alfredus Allius gave him a puzzled look. ‘Not that I know of, citizen. What gave you that idea?’

‘That’s what he told me – almost the only information that he was willing to divulge. Once he had discovered that my father was not here, he would not even consent to give his name,’ my son exclaimed.

Alfredus raised his mousy brows at me. ‘How extremely odd. I’ve always found Scipio Drusus rather talkative. When did you speak to him?’

Junio shrugged. ‘He called here this morning. He was waiting when we … when I first arrived.’ He had suddenly remembered Maximus, and it affected him. He gulped, but went on steadily enough. ‘That must have been a little before noon. My father got here shortly afterwards.’

But the councillor was hardly listening any more. ‘That’s not possible. I met Scipio Drusus by arrangement near the northern gate about the second hour. I actually saw his travelling coach draw up – it’s a distinctive one – and he’d clearly just arrived. He was to come to my town apartment to refresh himself (and incidentally to bargain for some wine) but as it happened I could not stay with him. I’d just been summoned to a meeting of the curia.’

‘That was the meeting at the garrison?’ I said. ‘So by your own admission you weren’t with him all the time. He could have called here, while you were being addressed by the commander, couldn’t he?’

‘In theory, citizen. But I had my slave attend him to my flat, and that’s where he was when I came back later on. According to my servants, he had been there throughout. They had given him refreshment and assisted him to wash his feet and change his clothes. He’d brought his mourning toga with him for the reading of the will – he didn’t want to wear it in a dusty coach.’ He shook his head. ‘When I came back I took him to the forum straight away. So all his movements are accounted for. He could hardly have been here at the time that you suggest.’

‘And you are quite sure that he’s the man who purchased the Egidius house?’ I said.

Alfredus nodded. ‘Absolutely sure. He didn’t want the villa that Gaius Publius owned – it’s on the unfashionable northern side of town and doesn’t have a bath house, or a hypocaust. And there’s a problem anyway. Gaius Publius let it just a little while ago when he became too frail to leave his house in town, and the tenant claims there was a contract saying he could buy. Scipio will look into that of course. He may have to fight for possession in the courts. But even if he wins it, he intends to sell.’

‘The Egidius house is more convenient,’ I agreed. ‘It used to be quite splendid, I believe.’

Alfredus Allius gave one of his rare smiles. ‘And will be again, so Scipio declares. He’s moving his whole household into it today, including many of his effects, I understand – though some items from the house have been in storage for years and they were included in the purchase price.’

I made a little face. I wasn’t sure how much I trusted this account. ‘Then he’s rather careless with his money, isn’t he?’ I observed. ‘Buying goods and property that he has never seen.’

‘He may be wealthy, citizen, but he is not a fool. Of course he came to see the place before he parted with a single quadrans. Though I would not like to live there, I agree.’ Alfredus fingered his amulets again. ‘I warned him of its bad reputation, but he did not seem to care. Laughed and said it was a bargain at the price – he would buy some cleansing herbs from me to set the ghosts to rest, and even pay a priest to come and purify the place. In fact, I have promised that I’ll send my priest and wise-woman to him later on today when they have finished here.’